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The Cities I Once Called Home
A love letter to the places of my past.
I’ve lived in seven cities during my 43 years of life — Singapore, Perth, Sulawesi, London, Boston, Hong Kong, and I’m now in Portland, Oregon. In each place, I had friends and/or partners, I had daily routines, work and purpose, and I was part of a community. When I look back on time spent in each of these places, I feel pangs of nostalgia as memories of people, places and events come flooding through my mind. But more than just my own memories, what’s more painful to recall are the memories of the cities themselves — each a living, breathing entity that I still mourn for.
I close my eyes and I can see the different quality of light in each of the places I once called home. I see the city’s streets in daylight and by night, I recall the different climatic conditions — the dense, tropical heat of Singapore, the arid warmth of Perth, the sweltering, saltiness of Sulawesi, the drizzly, cool dampness of London, the pink-sky, Indian summers and frigid winters of Boston, the smoggy winters and crisp springs of Hong Kong. I see my favorite café, park, beach, or neighborhood convenience store in each of the locations. I feel the freneticism or languor of the people as they pass by me along sidewalks. I remember the faces of my favorite store owners, or supermarket check-out lady, or postman or barista — the people whose names I may…
